


Boys and their Toys

by CandyassGoth



Category: Kingsman (Movies), Kingsman: The Secret Service (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Dubious Consent, Eggsy has a vagina, Extremely Dubious Consent, Fondling, Fuck Or Die, Human Experimentation, Human Trafficking, Intersex Eggsy, M/M, Minor Character Death, Moral Dilemmas, Mutual Pining, Mutually Unrequited, OMC - Freeform, Semi-Public Sex, Sexual Slavery, So yeah, Spies & Secret Agents, Undercover Missions, Unrequited Love, Vaginal Sex, come one cum all, duh - Freeform, heavy stuff, hells yeah, just in case, sort of, why am I doing this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 05:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,152
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11480034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CandyassGoth/pseuds/CandyassGoth
Summary: An undercover mission goes wrong and lands Eggsy and Charlie in the hands of sex traffickers that specialise in human experimentation to make moreinterestingproducts. Harry jumps to the rescue, but he finds himself just as trapped as they are.





	Boys and their Toys

**Author's Note:**

> A while ago an anon on tumblr prompted for some intersex!Eggsy and I figured what the hell, might as well bring the idea to life already. I do love me some intersex (boys with vaginas yesss), poor Loki is proof. I wrote the first half of this sometime last year, got side tracked, went mental and spiralled into a personal hell, and haven’t written since. So, today I woke up and decided to finish this as a ‘im not dead yet’ token. So hey, whaddup. Also I’m still not feeling very great so can’t promise this is very good. Ahaha, I say that like any of my stuff is any good. Ah
> 
> Read tags for warnings. And just to clarify again, the sex between Eggsy and Harry is under duress, a fuck-or-die situation, thus morally complicated. They aren’t in an established relationship at the time, even though they are pining for each other and on the verge of spilling their feelings. So warnings, children.
> 
> Ohkai, carry on.
> 
>  
> 
> _I apologise for errors_

** Boys and their Toys **

It all started as a terrible order.

 _Send in the boys_ , Arthur said, _it will be track and report_ , Arthur said.

Sending Charlie and Eggsy together on a highly volatile mission was a mistake in the first place. Neither boy was mature enough to back down from a challenge, which came to perfect light when they went against directed orders and scoped out a party that they had no intel or insight on. 

Merlin sat on his own for the first hour, barking threats at them as he watched them cajole through an underground club. Charlie had refused to wear the downscale clothing assigned to them— _too Eggsy_ , he said—and insisted they shouldn’t waste their night blending in with the tourists of their dank (“ _Disgusting_!” Charlie sneered) hotel. Going to check out the rave would be far more productive seeing as teens disappeared from there and they might find the men involved ahead of schedule. It was an unnecessary long shot, Eggsy argued, but one taunt from Charlie about ending up as the better candidate and he was out the door.

Charlie broke their budget buying a new outfit, Eggsy broke their phone tossing it at Charlie’s face, and Merlin broke his keyboard in frustration.

Harry had laughed when he walked in on the situation, expecting better of Eggsy, but at least their diversion was mission related. They were trying to take initiative.

Until, he _wasn’t_ laughing, and he started attacking their systems along with Merlin when the boys were grabbed. No amount of spy tech or self-defence skills could lessen the effect of a blunt blow to the head. All the boys had on tracking wise were bugs under their collars to recording the audio, their glasses left behind in their room during the childish rush to get out the door.

It was the closest Harry had gotten to a heart-attack in his life, and for good reason: the mission was centred on a sex-trafficking ring that dealt in vile human experimentations to young men and women from all over the world. Their villain was a bit of an artist, supposedly taking pride in his creations, and of course, getting rich in the process.

Now Eggsy and Charlie had been captured, their whereabouts unknown and the turnaround time for new ‘products’ was decreasing rapidly. It had been Arthur’s terrible idea to send in the boys to verify Richmond Valentine’s information, and Harry grit his teeth when he caught Percival looking gratefully at Roxy. Harry too was glad she hadn’t been put on field work for this op, but it didn’t lessen his fury that Eggsy was out there in the hands of perverts. 

Eggsy could handle a beating, he could handle pain, he could lie well enough under torture and he was unwaveringly loyal to Kingsman, but it was not specifically in Kingsman’s training to harden them against sexual assaults. It was taught in theory, discussed intimately between an agent and their candidate, but it was up to the candidate to prepare themselves physically if they so choose. Candidates were allowed to ask for help, if they so choose, and an agent willing could volunteer, but that rarely ever happened. Harry wasn’t surprised when Eggsy didn’t approach him (or Merlin, or any of the agents), it was a delicate topic. He hadn’t asked either.

Harry despised the very thought of Eggsy being sexually assaulted. The boy had been through enough, he still refused to confirm whether he had any actual history on _Smith Street_ (his very refusal was a confirmation) and it panicked Harry to his core to think of failing him in a situation like this. There was never any guarantee that an agent wouldn’t be captured and tortured physically and/or sexually, and Harry had disagreed on sending Eggsy in, but he had yielded to Arthur’s order, and now Eggsy had been taken and the statistics for sexual assault were rising rapidly every second. It would be his fault, work-related or not. 

Eggsy admired him dearly, it was no secret, and Harry returned the sentiment. He was going to personally murder each person that crossed the line.

 

The club of interest had a hidden inner sanctum where the owner of the club openly flaunted his victims and rented them out to other men and women. Harry and the team had to wait another twenty four hours after the incident before making a move. It could be luck that Eggsy and Charlie had been nabbed without most of their tech, they would be classified as civilians rather than spies. The longer they were valuable the longer they would last. That was only until one of them talked, and Harry had never quite trusted Charlie’s judgement. Unfortunately there was nothing to do but the job, and everyone steered clear out of Harry’s way as he took point like he suggested in the first place. Arthur quietly gave him authority to lead the mission, and said nothing more. 

After lounging around the bar for a while Harry turned, tapping his glasses once. “Going under, Merlin.”

“ _Tracking systems withdrawing. Coms only. Be careful_.”

“Stay tuned.”

The door of significance was a blink-and-you-miss it. The two men standing in front of it were humongous, hiding the door with their mass alone. They were dressed well, too well, fit for physical tasks but these two were specifically for show. They would rip right through their clothing doing anything more than kicking someone out. Perhaps a last minute contingency for the chancers that came trying their luck.

Harry walked straight up to them and smiled, two heads shorter.

“Is this the right place to inquire about _hiring a new ride_?”

“What are you looking for, sir?” the bald one asked.

“Something sporty and new.”

The guard gave him a curt nod, the code still valid, but didn’t move. “The price of admission is exclusive.”

“I can show you my credentials. Mr. De Vere. George De Vere.”

The guard threw his name into his tablet and glanced over the results. “You have a spotless record, Mr. De Vere.”

Harry smiled falsely. “Of course. Don’t we all?”

“We’ll need to see _those_ credentials.”

“I’m not sure what you mean?”

“This is a Member’s Only house, but new members are always welcomed if they provide proof of their shared proclivities.” The guard raised a hinted brow, and Harry heard Merlin sigh. “But we have a shortcut available if you’re in a hurry, sir.”

Harry made an effort to look put out. “I should hope it isn’t too trying…?”

“It’s discreet and entirely safe, sir.”

Harry rolled his eyes and flapped a hand. “All right, let’s move this along then. I don’t need to squander anymore time on silly tests.”

The guards looked at each other and the other opened the door. The bald man stepped in first, and then beckoned for Harry to join him. Harry smiled to the one remaining by the door, and followed his guide through a plain beige corridor. They could’ve been in a cheap motel if he hadn’t known better.

They entered into a tiny room with two doors. The second door had an industrial grade lock. There was a small table by the door they walked through, holding a pair of black gloves. The guard shut the door, and handed Harry the gloves.

Harry took the gloves and opened his mouth with obnoxious intent, but stopped as the second door unlocked and banged open. A young man was pulled through by two goons.

Harry stepped behind the bald man and waved the gloves flamboyantly. “What is this?” 

The guard pulled out his gun—silencer, 21mm, premium grade, fit for discretion—and offered it to Harry. 

“This man is a traitor. He isn’t leaving this place, whether we do it, or a client.”

Harry pointed from the gun to the man with a shaking finger. “I must….?”

“Kill him.”

“I’ve never held a gun in my life!”

The amount of patience in the guard was astounding, he must do this a lot, and the thought was far from comforting.

“It’s simple, sir. Aim and squeeze. I’m afraid it’s your admission. All our new clients proceed by demonstration, referral or not.” The guard offered the gun again, but Harry pushed it away, raising his hands.

“I don’t do my own dirty work, perhaps—”

“Kill him, or fuck him.”

“Dear _God_ , how do I know he’s not completely riddled? What did he do anyway, who is this?”

“Gordan Franks. He’s been lying to our superiors, and feeding the competition information—”

“Pl-please—” The man on the floor started spluttering, raising his roped hands, but the guard ignored him. Harry followed his lead.

“—hid and stole truckloads of cargo and ruined two of the boss’ specialty whores—”

Merlin’s voice came across softly in Harry’s ear. “ _Does he have a scar on his hand_?”

Harry checked Franks as the guard went on, and the man kept pleading. “Ah. _Yes_. I see…”

Merlin snorted. “ _Well, he’s not lying. Franks is by no means a big fish but he’s got his own record on the index. Murder, trafficking, rape. He’s exactly where he should be_.”

Harry reflected Merlin’s words as the guard concluded. “He’s scum, Mr. De Vere. There will be no loss here.”

Harry made a show of looking uncomfortable and started putting on the gloves. 

“Good grief...” Undercover work had always been his favourite, but especially around unsavoury people of this calibre. He’d never quite had to act like a useless pompous old git when infiltrating an illegal ring, but it was entertaining and would certainly be easier than normal. He could kill the guard in a snap, he was outright handing him a gun in a soundproof room, leaving Harry his keys, tablet and passage into their operation. They were being careful, but not careful enough.

Once the gloves were on Harry started faffing. “I-I really…what if I am linked to this—“

“You have our greatest assurance and protection. Reveal one, reveal us all.”

“That is true, I suppose…”

The guard smiled, and gentle took Harry’s hands. “Let me help you.” He placed the gun in Harry’s hands and positioned them correctly—he definitely killed with weapons rather than brute force, he was a party trick—and lifted until they were aiming at the shaking criminal in the middle of the floor.

Harry glanced at the guard and wriggled the gun. “I pull?”

The guard looked to be enjoying himself. Harry wouldn’t be surprised in that wasn’t another gun sticking into his hip. “Just a little squeeze, sir.”

“Oh God—now— _shit_ -!” Harry fired haphazardly, clipping the man in the shoulder and immediately dropping the gun. It clattered to their feet dangerously, and the guard rushed to retrieve it as their victim howled, lying pathetically as his arm oozed red. Harry sighed loudly and side-stepped towards the door. “Is that enough? I really must protest—”

“One more time, sir.” 

Harry let the guard coax him back into place like a jittery rabbit. He complained far less this time, opting for a sort of terrified brave silence, and let the man use his hand to kill the other. It was no loss to the world, but it had to seem like an inconvenience to Mr. De Vere.

The guard’s aim was impeccable and they got in a clean head shot, even with all the shaking of Harry’s hands. The only thing that could’ve given Harry more grounds to panic would be the _bang_ but the gun was quiet. So he settled for heaving when the body dropped. “Oh God, that—”

“Well done, sir.” The guard clapped him on the back, smiling toothily and carefully took back his gun. Harry pressed it at him and turned from the body, ripping the gloves off. “Allow me to escort you inside and get you a drink.” 

“That would be appreciated.” Harry said snootily, putting in a sniff for good measure.

It pleased the guard, and he led him out like a spoilt child. They continued on down two doors, no heat signatures in them, but the third was bustling, and opened with the guard’s finger print. The door, mahogany, opened inwards automatically, and presented Harry with a secondary club. 

It had the same seedy and secretive atmosphere as the public venue, but there was far more on display here. A girl with purple hair and eyes that seemed to glow in the dark light, a girl with the vestigial tail of a cat, a boy with plump breasts, and another boy in a cage, and one he couldn’t tell the gender of. And they were just the ones that stuck out. Naked thin little bodies everywhere, luminescent lights and dark corners, with a soft slow tantric beat playing in the background.

Suddenly the guard was handing him a glass of scotch. Harry dropped it almost immediately, closing his eyes in mock regret as he draped a palm over his forehead

“God, I am so sorry. I’ll need a moment.”

“Very sorry, sir. Right this way, Sir.”

The guard took him further in past many tables and people. Drinks and smokes went around in abundance, as did a trays of injections. There were cameras every ten feet, and identical bracelets on all of the unfortunate captives. Tracking devices at best, shock or death collars at worst.

They stopped in front of a table where a man sat with a young woman, chatting excitedly at her. It was unlikely she took in a word he said, staring off into a place just over his hair line, scratching at the marks inside her elbow.

“Mr. Lark. May I introduce Mr. De Vere.”

Mr. Lark was a chubby old man, balding and sporting a bushy moustache, covered in a red velvet dressing robe. Unfortunately for the girl beside him Harry was almost certain he was naked beneath it.

“Ah, hello there! And what is our new friend looking for? Have we met before? I am terrible with names _and_ faces. The worst!” 

The guard took his leave and Harry idled up to the table. “Is this _your_ impregnable fortress? Your doormen are quite daunting. As are other things…”

“Oh, so sorry about that nasty screening process, you look positively haunted. I have just the thing, come sit. Margo—! Oh, if girls are your thing…?”

Harry sat down at the table as Mr. Lark chased the girl away and beckoned over another. 

“Girls. Boys. What’s the difference?”

“Aha! Brilliant! I like you already, Mr. De Vere. Here, don’t be shy, have a drink.”

Margo was the woman with purple hair and eyes. She looked supernatural, especially with the distant look on her face as she placed a drink in front of Harry, and seated herself on his lap. 

Harry smiled at Mr. Lark and put his hands around her waist. This club was going to be their first bust when he retrieved Eggsy and Charlie and infiltrated the scientist Marsh’s organisation.

“I am very sorry about the entrance fee, but we’re all in this together, aren’t we?” Mr. Lark chuckled, throwing back one of his own multiple colourful drinks splayed across the table. Harry moved his about idly.

“I understand. It was just a shock, is all. I’ve never…done it myself. There was always a service hand.”

“Oh, I understand completely, my dear. I’ve done it a few times and it still gives me chills!” Mr. Lark threw his head back and laughed boisterously. Harry offered him a weak chuckle—he was traumatised, you know. 

Mr. Lark seemed to sense his hesitance and chased the moment away with an eager wave of his hands. “Anywhoo, onto business. Where are you from? What are you looking for, dear man?”

“I’ve just bought an island for my retirement. I’m fifty six tomorrow and I thought it would be a rather fulfilling idea to enrich it with a pretty face or two for company. It’s been a long while since I’ve _owned_. I gave all my time to my work.”

“I know just what you mean. Come, tell me, what are you looking for? I know a bit of everyone. You look amazing for your age, by the way!”

Harry smiled. He would be visiting those _everyone_ s soon. He sighed and looked around the room, flexing his fingers over Margo’s waist. She stared off at the wall unresponsively.

“I only dared coming here myself because I heard of something new on the market. A certain chain of experimentations. And I see I haven’t missed the rave, or have I?” 

His eyes settled on couple at a nearby table. The young man with breasts leaned back in his seat, hand gently curled in the hair of an older man who was nursing in earnest. Harry didn’t have to put effort into looking surprised at the dribble of milk spilling from the pervert’s mouth.

Mr. Lark followed his gaze with a lewd, suggestive grin. “Marvellous, isn’t it? He is actually _lactating_. Imagine that.”

“Apparently I don’t need to.” He wished he hadn’t had to, it was becoming more and more difficult from imagining all these atrocities happening to Eggsy and Charlie.

“Exactly! Of course it hasn’t been available very long, just a couple months so it’s still very costly. But I had to get one, of course. And Margo here, with her lovely eyes and hair—pubic as well, grows that way now. And there is Minnie, she orgasms at the slightest touch! Then there is Benjamin…” 

The man went on and on, pointing out his _toys_ and bragging like a child at Christmas. Harry nodded and blinked and parted his lips, occasionally giving Margo a look, and fought the urge to dash the entire contents of his pen into the man’s drink. He hoped Merlin was keeping track of what was being said, he was having the hardest time maintaining his casual demeanour. Eggsy was further at risk than they could have imagined, he need to find him _now_

“...and word on the street is that Mr. Marsh is working on boys who actually _get wet_ , _back there_! I can’t get enough of that man! He’s going to bankrupt me by the time I die!”

Harry down half of his drink this time to keep the image out of his head. “The man appears to be a genius.” Margo shifted. He tried to control the clenching of his hands, and patted her twice in apology.

“Oh, he is. So what did you have in mind? The boy with the tits? I heard girls with cocks are in the genome stage. Not that I am a scientist!”

Harry shifted and urged Margo off of him. She moved instantly and he brushed out his suit, giving her a shake of his head when she tried to return. Mr. Lark waved her off, and she left with a more vigour than she came.

“Honestly all of it is ridiculously intriguing.” _I’m coming back for you_ “There is so much to think about.” _Cut off your saggy cock and tits_ “Is there a show room? Perhaps a catalogue? I’d really rather choose firsthand what I am buying.” _I’ll personally buy you a one-way ticket to Hell_.

“Of course! And you’re in luck! I happen to be, as you see, a big client and distributor of his, so you can visit his lair directly by using me as a referral. No screening required.”

“ _They actually do have a referral system? God Almighty..._ ” Merlin muttered across the coms.

Harry smiled at both men. “He calls it a lair?”

“Oh, no, haha! We do. It’s so remote and unsuspecting. By the way, from whom did you get your recommendation from?”

“I’m afraid I overheard a conversation of Barrington’s. I revealed myself, of course, and swore myself to secrecy. Provided I…get in on it. So hard to find legitimate sources, it was a godsend.”

“Oooh, naughty Barry. We do have to be careful, you know. It’s not like the old days. Eyes everywhere!”

Harry adjusted his glasses. “Quite a nuisance, isn’t it.”

Mr. Lark snapped his fingers at Margo across the room, and she returned with a single but conscious glance at Harry.

To her relief, Harry saw it in her shoulders, Mr. Lark asked her for a business card. She pulled it from a vulgar little sleeve on the front of her underwear, and handed it to her master, who slid it across the table like a seduction.

“Here we go. On this is everything you need. Those are the coordinates. Your pilot should know what to do with them. And there is a secured line should you get lost. Just mention me as your referrer and you’ll be tended to. I bring him a lot of business.” Mr. Lark winked with exaggeration, and then laughed at himself. Harry chuckled along and took the card, grimacing internally when their fingers brushed.

“Of course there isn’t always stock on hand, his beauties go fast. So if you want something specific kept a side until you get there, give the number a call. Oh, and no weapons on site, I am sure you understand. Your guards will have to turn them in, or wait in the lobby. Otherwise a fantastic establishment. I do hope you’ll find what you’re looking for.”

Harry smiled and toasted the remainder of his scotch.

“I guarantee you I won’t leave his lair until I’ve found what I want.”

 

 

“Is the plane ready?”

Merlin nodded, fixing his ear piece and tie. “Set and waiting.”

“I am _tired_ of waiting.”

Merlin scooted out of Harry’s way as he stalked by through the weapons room at HQ. 

It was another two days later, and Harry was fretting. He was not someone you wanted to be around when upset as he was. He couldn’t relax, he couldn’t smile, he couldn’t sleep, but he appreciated his team’s effort. They worked around the clock and if they had to do an evaluation after this whole mess, it could turn out to be their most successful mission to date considering data collection, verification and infiltration set up. Merlin had most of the entire base scoped out and Lancelot and Pervical had rounded up a capable team of field agents based on the intel gathered. Roxy had found a possible escape root all on her own that their villain might use, and Percival set up a team at that station too. 

It was a tricky predicament. Mr. Marsh had a wide clientele in his short spring to life and thus a lot invested in his work. There were no doubt contingency plans, hidden security and many more guards. But it was supposed to be a single-owned private operation, so there would be only one battle to fight to bring it down, and they’d track down all the clients straight away afterwards. Those like Mr. Lark would know within hours what had happened, and Harry had no plans to lose him.

“I’m ready.” 

Harry turned to Miss Morton with a sharp retort on the tip of his tongue, but it turned to lead the second he saw her.

Roxy flushed hot, dressed in a tiny glittery silk dress, more skin exposed on her body than the last model Harry had seen on one of Eggsy’s random magazines. The dress was tight and left absolutely nothing to the imagination, her heels high and her hair flowing. Her face was done up in makeup, she looked surprisingly older than even their best disguises had ever managed, and it didn’t look nice at all. He fought the urge to look away and cover her with a jacket, after all this was a professional place and they weren’t children. He was just overflowing with protective instincts and this was not helping in the least.

“What are you doing?” he asked irritably instead.

“Chances are you’ll need to give them a little extra proof, and you’ll need back up. We don’t know what has happened or what they’ve told them, and if they corner you you’ll need to be able to win their trust.”

“Mr. De Vere murdered a man for Lark—”

“But anyone can do that, and it’s not exactly proof of your involvement in the actual sex slave trade.”

“And you’re my proof?” he asked, failing not to sound incredulous. She went pink and glanced at Merlin who sighed, but her face was set and she handed Harry a small device.

“That is the switch to my collar. We can fool them with a little show if they want us to tell. That might be enough.”

Harry’s expression softened at her sacrifice, than hardened twice fold. 

“Do you understand the risks?”

“Yes, Galahad.” She stood tall. “Whatever is needed to get them back.”

“It should be Charlie in that bloody outfit.” Merlin grumbled.

“You need to be sure you understand,” Harry said, softer, as he turned the device in his hand. “I plan to get through this as little compromise as possible but your presence could entice a show rather than halt it. You need to understand a display of punishment might not be enough, and I cannot guarantee getting us or the boys out without physical sacrifice.”

Roxy flushed red, but she nodded sternly, and suddenly Harry could see her disguise as the battle suit it was. She was ever the promising young agent she was going to be, just like Eggsy. They’d be fine, he had to believe.

“Understood, Galahad.”

“Very well.” He nodded and pocketed the device. She nodded and left the cabin, leaving Merlin to shrink and hold his hands up.

“That was entirely her plan. She wants to help.” 

Harry sighed and offered him a weak smile, and let the words tumble out against his better judgment. “I’ll keep her safe.” He wouldn’t _touch_ her if he could help it, but she was right. Gaining entrance to any club required a display of interest, and what was it to some pervert to prove to a maniac he really was a sex-slave keeper?

Merlin returned it and cuffed Harry on the arm. “We’ll get them back.”

There was a guilty fault line in Merlin’s voice, but Harry could relate. He took a grounding breath and nodded.

The trip was short. Merlin gave up trying to boss them into their seats (there was still every chance Franklin Marsh knew who they were and would shoot them out of the sky), and landed them safely. Harry and Roxy both hovered by the door, adjusting themselves agitatedly. The mission was too personal, and if their emotions failed them, their gadgets couldn’t. There wasn’t much they could bring along besides standard issue Kingsman pieces. Any guns would have to be wrestled away by the guards, but hopefully Merlin would have cracked the mainframe by then. Eggsy and Charlie could be in critical condition, it would be harder still to fight their way out.

Roxy glanced at him as the plane came to a stop. 

“They’ll be okay. He’ll be okay.”

Harry smiled minutely, enough for her to see it, before it was back to business. Being emotional would _not_ get them through this mission, not like it had motivated the gathering of intel.

“Your alias’s background?” he asked, lifting the remote-keychain from his pocket to hang around his fingers for sharp access.

“Name: Kate. Age: twenty-four. From an orphanage in London, bought through an underhand dealing at sixteen and given to Mr. De Vere for his fifty-sixth birthday from a friend looking for favours. You still want to choose your own, Kate is far too rebellious. But since you have a female now, you’re in the market for a male.”

Harry nodded, and they stood aside for Merlin to open the plane door.

 

Franklin’s lair was in the base of a mountain. A lesser known soviet military arms base built half-way and then abandoned. It was an old base, but that didn’t make it any easier to infiltrate. The thick layers of metal interfered with their signals, and the lack of modern security could gravely hamper their ability to make it out at all. Merlin could hack them through almost any door in the world, but a hundred pound military grade submarine door would not yield to fingers on a keyboard. 

The landing strip was small and surrounded by trees, allowing their plane to settle right in front of the small unassuming doorway. It was rusted and bolted but big and bold, not particularly hidden in the rock, but could be assumed to be merely a door that lead nowhere. It was cold out; Roxy didn’t need to fake the shiver.

When the door to the plane closed, Merlin’s eyes on them until the last second, Harry inclined his head and they moved forward carefully. The ground wasn’t hot with landmines and Merlin hadn’t detected any last minute weaponry ready to fire at them. They made it through the small path and up to the door with nothing but the sounds of birds and crunching gravel. Harry stopped himself at the last minute from opening his umbrella and ducking as Roxy tripped slightly with her heels.

The door opened automatically, and Harry held tightly to his umbrella. 

A thin, old man appeared from the dark, his skin wrinkled and eyes shrewd.

“Welcome, Mr. De Vere. We’ve anticipated your arrival.”

These people weren’t stupid, they could keep up the façade until the very last moment, and Harry wasn’t going to initiate that moment until absolutely necessary. 

He smiled. “It is good to finally arrival. Oh, I hope you don’t mind, I had to bring _her_ along. Leave her alone for one moment and its havoc.”

The old man beckoned them in, and with a nod of thanks Harry entered first. The room they walked into was brighter than it looked from the outside, and far more advanced than they previously thought. It had a few chairs, two doors as expected, and an intercom, the floor carpeted and a security camera to the far right. All the better; the more they could alter digitally the easier it would be.

“Not at all, sir. But we do need to search you both for weapons, I’m sure you understand.”

Harry turned and opened his arms, smiling briefly at the two guards stationed on either side of the door. “Of course, Lark said you would.” 

The old man beckoned the guards forward to search them. They were dressed far more practically than Lark’s men, and knew exactly where to look for hidden weapons. Guns, radios each and hard expressions. Roxy fidgeted as they searched her, but it was brief, and surprisingly without any groping. It was clear these men were here to work, not get cheap thrills. It made them all the more dangerous.

They gave the doorman a nod and stepped back into place. Harry leaned on his umbrella smugly.

“Thank you, Mr De Vere. Now, right this way, our employer does business directly to all those who pay him a visit. It’s only polite.”

“I would be deli—”

“ _Sickened_.” Roxy spat suddenly.

Harry sighed to the side, eyes closed in exasperation, and made a show of rolling the device in his hand. An electric charge singed the air and Roxy screamed, dropping her to her knees and gasping at the ground. The Doorman watched her with mild amusement in his small eyes, and Harry resisted watching at all. They’d gone over the specifics of the collar, it didn’t have a ‘fatal’ setting, but it could hurt like hell and it wasn’t the best time to have an agent down. Though for the sake of realism it did the job, and Harry waited impatiently for her to stumble back to her feet.

“I must apologise, she’s new. Unexpected gift”

“Mmh, yes. I don’t know where you got this one from but you’ll find far more satisfying products here.”

Harry smacked her with the umbrella as she straightened. “Can you behave while I find a friend for you?”

Roxy nodded jerkily, face red and hands around her collared neck. Harry smacked her hands away.

“Stop pulling at it.”

The Doorman led them through the door across the room. They knew the door to the left was towards the security room, a poor location should they storm the base, but that was the least of their problems. Harry tried to make sure he caught a glimpse of everything as they walked, not that it would help much if the plan went to shit. There would be no escaping and coming back another day, Franklin would kill every victim and move his set up far, far away. 

Franklin was a man of average height and on the thin side, curly black hair brushed back in a weak attempt at being neat. He dressed well, dark red suit on with golden cuff links, shoes spotless but collar lose. He was younger than Harry but showed signs of a life of hardship. He had the slightest hint of an Italian accent, carefully neutralized into something faux-American. His eyes were alive and alert despite the lines of age and life, and Harry took a deep breath.

“Hello and welcome! You’re one of the more attractive fellows to come through here. Don’t tell the others.”

Harry chuckled as they shook hands, letting Franklin dominate the strength of the grip.

“It’s good to meet you, Franklin. I’ve been eager to come here.”

“Who isn’t? And who is this little beauty?” The man smiled charmingly, arms spreading out as if for a hug.

Roxy glared openly, hands lowered from her neck and fiddling with the hem of her dress. 

Harry gestured reluctantly. “Kate. A birthday gift from two days ago. As you can imagine, rudest thing I’ve dealt with since I was in university.”

Franklin hummed and shot her a look of mock-warning before chuckling at Harry. “Tsk, tsk. Your friend either has a sense of humour or a bone to pick with you. You don’t seem like the patient type”

“I’m really not. But my psychiatrist suggested keeping challenges in my life. Seems like my dear friend thinks so too. They may be right.”

“It may take effort to break her in, but the reward will be worth it. But please, come, we’ll find you a nice well behaved one to fill the gap. Perhaps bleach blonde?”

“A boy, please.” Harry said, maybe a little too quickly. “In fact, the best, something no one else has. I’ll pay cash up front.”

Franklin raised a brow—impressed or onto them?—and gestured them forward with a bow. 

“Well, Mr. De Vere. Let’s go find your boy.”

Harry smiled as politely as possible while fighting the vicious urge to thrust his umbrella straight through Franklin’s chest.

The walls were lined with creamy sandy tiles, the floors a matching burgundy. There were cameras at every corner, along with a guard. There were doors here and there, soundproof by the looks of it and all were closed. Harry mapped out their steps in their head, content to know their calculations of the compound were more or less correct going by ancient blueprints and weak structural radio scans.

Franklin spoke as they idled corridor to corridor.

“Lark explained the kind of… ‘art’ I do here?”

“I saw a lot of it up-close. It’s extraordinary. I’ve thought of nothing else since.”

“I heard Councilman Barrington is responsible for your enlightenment. As is obvious this is an invitation only party, not that I blame you, of course.” Franklin touched his arm like an old friend. “After all, you came to us instead of…others.”

“I am a team player, Franklin. Reveal one, reveal us all.”

Franklin smiled maliciously. “Indeed.” 

They entered into a small lounge room. There was a desk-centre with a tall blonde women typing at a computer, an end table with random magazines (for the show of it, perhaps, to create some kind of twisted normality—or maybe even as an inside joke), and three-seater couches lining the walls. Across from the couch Franklin chose was a large screen on the wall, playing some kind of wilderness rerun. 

Harry sat besides franklin, taking his time to look vain as he straightened his clothes and crossed his legs and checked his watch.

When he looked up it was to Franklin looking at Roxy, who stood beside them with her arms wrapped around her stomach. Her eyes were wet with unshed tears, and Harry bit down the dreadful image of Eggsy, face wet with tears and pain.

“Kneel, girl.” He ordered.

She refused, and gave them each a filthy look.

Harry whipped the chain around his finger, giving Franklin the chance to see it, and Roxy the space to get in a reaction. Her eyes widened and she held her hands out, about to say something when he clicked the button and watched her scream. Franklin laughed shortly in surprise as she went down, clinging to the spare seat with breathless gasps as she twitched and jerked in the aftermath.

Franklin snapped his fingers, watching her with a calculating look on his face that Harry didn’t like one bit.

“…This reminds me, our newer products obviously aren’t as… _acclimatized_ as those that are a few weeks in. There is a chance they’ll be unruly, like this little senorita. Once the medication wears off either they panic and self implode, or they lash out. We try to steer their reactions into a calm path before releasing them to clients, of course. However, I can’t promise a perfectly good boy right off the bat.”

“That’s all right, give me the worst. But the best, of course, I’d like to show Lark a thing or two about ownership and business.”

“I like the way you think. In fact, if all goes well here today you could leave the girl and I can upgrade her for you.”

Roxy didn’t need to fake looking scared; Harry felt enough of it himself. There were only two doors in the path from here to the lobby, and neither was particularly bolted. But they couldn’t let their guard down. Surely Harry would be under no obligation to leave Roxy here as proof, she was _his_ in the eyes and values of this man. He just hoped he wouldn’t have to prove it for his viewing pleasure.

“If all goes well, we’ll see.”

Suddenly Merlin’s voice came through the coms, nearly making Harry jump. “ _Harry, I’ve hit a snag. It’s breakable, I just need time_.”

Harry inclined his vision towards his hand on his knee and tapped three times to acknowledge it.

Franklin lifted a remote from in between the pile of magazine and flipped on a chancel.

Six little boxes popped up on screen, each with a different boy at the centre on a medical bed. It didn’t take Harry more than two seconds to find Eggsy, and then purposely avoid him as Franklin kept watch.

“These beauties are still soft and warm and luckily for you, my most marvellous creations yet. I’ve been working on it for a while, of course, a few years, but now it’s perfected and ready to be shared with my friends.”

Harry dared an excited smile, trying his best to see through the mask on Franklin’s face. 

“I would like to be one of those.”

“I would like that too.” Franklin said in earnest. Harry couldn’t spot the lie, but he could spot the falling short. Franklin turned back to the screen and waved the remote. “So, just the boys?”

“Yes, please. I saw the one with tits and that was it for me.”

“Then I have the gift of a life time.” Franklin grinned, glancing at Roxy for a moment before he looked back at Harry with a more serious arch of his bushy brows. “Provided you truly understand discretion, however.”

“I will be returning to an island where it will be just my few guards, this one and hopefully one of these lads. Discretion will be a lifestyle.”

“Good. That is good. Because what I am about to show you has never—to my knowledge, I’ve looked around—has never been done. And this time it’s different. It’s not a natural preproduction of what plastic surgery can do. It’s nothing you could have ever imagined, in your wildest, filthiest dreams, sir.”

Harry took a deep monitored breath to control his pulse. His hands were starting to sweat. “These experiments have already been done?”

“Born three days ago. Happy birthday.”

Harry smiled, but the smile on Franklin’s face was threatening and implicative. He didn’t know, but he was aware of something.

“…Franklin, I assure you—”

“No, no, no. No assurances. This isn’t a regular transaction. This is the future. You must be absolutely sure.”

One of them would die today, Harry was sure. He fidgeted impatiently, finally back at the screen with equally as genuine need. “I’ve come along way not to be sure. I’d really like to be the first to sample it, if I may.”

Franklin didn’t answer right away. The moment grew quiet and tense, all Harry could hear was the clicking of Merlin’s keyboard, the blonde secretary’s keyboard, and Roxy’s shallow breathing. He squeezed the length of his umbrella, wondering if Franklin could defend himself without his guards.

Then Franklin smirked. “All right.” He zoomed in on the boys, and Harry heard Merlin’s sigh of relief at the sight of both Eggsy and Charlie.

“Is this live?” Harry asked, watching as the young men fidgeted and glanced around. He tried his best to appear casual when his eyes settled on Eggsy. Eggsy looked okay, he was awake and breathing, albeit strapped down and dressed in a medical gown. He didn’t appear to be in pain, but pain meds and nerve blockers weren’t all that hard to find.

Harry shifted impatiently once more, gripping the umbrella a little tighter.

“As live as we are. They’re a little woozy, as I’ve said it’s barely been a few days.”

“Since what, exactly?”

Franklin smiled perversely. “Good looking boys, aren’t they?”

It was only by a miracle that Harry’s face wasn’t prone to reddening when he was upset. He could’ve probably melted the polar ice-caps with how hot his face was, indignation and anger barrelling through his every atom as he stared at Eggsy. His hands were starting to shake. He was going to crack.

“Quite. Nothing special.”

“Oh, all the special is between those lanky little legs.” 

Roxy made the appalled noise for him, and Harry knocked her over with his heel.

“The suspense is killing me, Franklin.” 

Franklin laughed, demeanour suddenly lighter, but all the more two-sided. “All right. Fancy any particular one?”

“The worst of the bunch. Missy here is bringing out something in me. I prefer to be provoked before…acting out.” If there was one thing he was sure of, Eggsy would protect the civilians _and_ Charlie before himself. There was just something in his expression as he lie there that assured Harry this was still one of those times, despite what might have been done to him. And if making the loudest noise took a little attention off the other victims, Eggsy would do it.

Proven correct, Franklin pulled up Eggsy’s and another boy’s feed. The stranger looked equally as panicked as the others but far more livid, fists clenching and unclenching. Eggsy was far calmer, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes tired, one leg bouncing beneath the blankets.

“These two are notable. Tourists, we believe. The red-haired one is particularly loquacious. Those locks will be quite decadent to slip your fingers into. I already have.”

Harry blinked off the taunt and swallowed a ball of white-hot anger. 

“…What’s been done to them?” he asked, confidence waning faster than he could afford it. Eggsy was somewhere in this base, now confirmed to be experimented on and likely irrevocably traumatized no matter the brave face he had on. Harry was supposed to look after him, guide him, protect him, and he had failed. He had failed spectacularly, thanks to the bastard smiling at him. Lord help him when Merlin gave him the go ahead to take him down, and the fact that he had to be brought in alive did not count _for_ Franklin. He could still talk with every bone below the waist broken.

“Let’s go see, shall we?” 

To make up for his lacking performance Roxy got up before Harry could prompt her, folding her arms around herself and wiping away big fat crocodile tears. She looked positively haunted, much like he felt, and he grabbed her arm to unnecessarily steer her after Franklin. He squeezed her arm in a semblance of comfort, and to ground himself, and remind himself what was at stake. If he lost this, Roxy would be taken too, and the most she and the boys could hope for was death, if Franklin’s base was somehow impenetrable. He listened closely for any sign on Merlin’s side that he was closer to cracking the mainframe, but so far nothing.

The next area they went into Harry realized, belatedly, was unmapped. It was steel walls and concrete floors, perhaps newly built into the mountain. He tried to keep track of the route as Franklin led them through three doors and a couple corridors, more guards and camera and suspicious doors. This was definitely where all the atrocities were happening, it was hard not to catch the smell of medical supplies and conditioned air.

Every door had a two-scan pass on it, Franklin’s finger prints and voice recognition. Killing him was not an option if Merlin couldn’t come through, the voice recognition software would be near impossible to fool without the correct gadgets.

“The security is impressive.” He said, going for off-handed as he pretend-hauled Roxy besides Franklin.

“My work is revolutionary. We wouldn’t want it to fall into the wrong hands, would we?”

“Certainly not.”

“No one gets in or out of this area of the base without me. So if I were to die, every man and woman, employee or otherwise, will die down here.”

Harry didn’t have to try looking shocked and horrified. Only a monster would sentence his own workers to such a very plausible demise. 

“Do you workers now this?”

“Of course. So they try _veeery_ hard to keep me alive.” 

The hint was more than clear. Harry tried twice as hard to keep his calm and not tackle Franklin right through the wall. The suspense was truly killing him, they could be walking to their deaths for all he knew. Instinct told him otherwise, it was unlikely Franklin would stall eliminating a threat, he could’ve had a dozen of his men shoot them by now. But it was also unlikely he would murder an interested and prestigious customer on the off-chance that he was a spy. Franklin was suspicious but he was still uncertain. Harry wondered if it was Eggsy or Charlie that spilt a few beans.

Finally they stopped, almost abruptly. There were two guards stationed outside this particular door, and Franklin opened it at his leisure like he had the last few doors. Roxy fidgeted nervously, looking like she wanted to bolt. Harry couldn’t tell if she was still faking.

Franklin entered first, and Harry’s body coiled as he followed. Inside were four more guards, visibly armed and stationed at each corner of the room. The room was decently sized, completely empty save for a single camera by the door, and a medical curtain railing surround the silhouette of a bed where Eggsy lay (it had to be Eggsy or he was going to go ballistic).

“This seems a bit excessive.” Harry said, looking back as the door closed on them. Worst case scenario, Franklin knew. Harry would hit him with the umbrella, hopefully knocking him out with a clean shot to the temple, swing it around to do the same to the guard behind them, and open it just in time to shield both he and Roxy as the other three guards took up arms. By then Roxy will have grabbed the fallen gun and dropped, shooting straight across the room and taking out their legs, killing them when they fell in range of the bullets.

Best case scenario, Franklin was just paranoid, and would suddenly surrender himself without a fight.

Or maybe that was the desperate case scenario.

Franklin shrugged and walked up to the curtaining, and this time there was no mask to his hide suspicion. “Perhaps. I suppose we’ll see.” 

Harry steeled himself as Franklin pulled open the plastic curtain, revealing exactly who he needed to see. Eggsy was alive, he was right there, struggling until he saw Harry, and stopped dead.

“Feast your eyes, _Mr De Vere._ ”

Harry pretended not to hear the emphasis on his name and approached slowly, leaving Roxy to idle by the door. 

Eggsy looked so tired, but far from broken. His eyes were a little red and his brows stitched, but he was whole and clean and sporting the fiercest look as if—holy shit Eggsy was glaring at him like it was the last thing he had left in life. And Harry didn’t blame him, not when his mind came to terms with the fact that Eggsy was strapped down in a position similar to that of birthing women. It was vulgar and filthy and he stopped before his line of sight passed the blockage of Eggsy’s knee.

“…This one is your best?” he asked, breaking eye contact the same time Eggsy gave an angry twist, face reddening and glancing behind at Roxy.

“It’s a tie, but quite so. He’s a tough one, he barely cried when he found out what we did.”

 _What did you do_ , Harry thought, but he refused to let the words pass through his mouth. He feared they would crack and break tellingly, his gut clenching tighter than he thought imaginable as his eyes found their way back to his sweet boy who looked so wrongly ashamed. Even when Harry had scolded him on his table manners Eggsy had never even hinted at being ashamed. It didn’t suit him.

Franklin stepped back smugly. “Take a look, Mr. De Vere. He’s waiting.”

Of course he was, Eggsy had nowhere to go. He could barely move, chest rising and falling more rapidly by the second. He looked desperate to say something, eyes darting back and forth between all three of them, a common enough reaction for Harry to focus on his own as he felt the skin of his face light up once more. This time he knew he went red, blood filling with too many unpleasant emotions to decide upon one as he slowly but surely, stepped into view.

There was no choice; any pervert would dive in to have a look if he was even remotely impressed by the poor victims flitting around Lark’s establishment. Franklin’s words repeated loudly in Harry’s head as he wondered wildly what could’ve been done, (Was it the self lubrication? He wasn’t ready for that), and as he stalled under the pretence of numbing anticipation, there was one thought that rang louder than the others. 

“ _I heard girls with cocks are in the genome stage. Not that I am a scientist_!”

Eggsy was no girl, but why wouldn’t the reverse be possible?

With his heart skipping an ugly beat, Harry inhaled to keep from sabotaging his consciousness, and turned his face up as he glanced down.

The angle deprived Merlin and their recordings from the sight, whilst it would be burnt into Harry’s for the rest of his life.

He went cold, and then hot, and then cold again. The cycle repeated twice until he felt he would be sick, and he refused a much need breath.

He only took it when Eggsy spoke, genuinely alarming him a step back. 

“Touch me and I swear I’ll fuckin’ gut you.”

Franklin came up and shook Harry’s shoulders with a rumbling laugh, his expression dark and expectant as he stared through the shock on Harry’s face. “He has a mouth on him. Didn’t quite _react_ the way the others did. Nice jaw line though. And meaty thighs to…hold onto.”

“Fuck off.” Eggsy spat, mirroring the very least of Harry’s thoughts. His shoulder burnt, Franklin released him at the very last moment, and it took every bit of Harry’s remaining sanity not to grab Franklin by the neck and snap it. 

Franklin turned and beckoned Roxy. “My dear, why don’t you come and have a look?” 

She refused, shaking her head and outright crying now as she cupped her hands around her mouth. 

Harry looked down, away from Eggsy, as well as Roxy. 

This was bad. The sounds she was making were not fake, and he didn’t blame her for them, but if she couldn’t remain calm they could all die down here. He couldn’t risk looking at her, Franklin was eying them both. He was testing them.

“Come and see what I’ve given him.” Franklin urged, but she backed up until she knocked into the guard and stumbled aside in fright with a loud sob. She could probably guess what had been done, she’d heard it all, if Harry’s reaction wasn’t enough. At the very least her performance would pass the strictest scrutiny, and surely Franklin wouldn’t believe a do-gooder spy would drag in a terrified young civilian just to solidify his cover. 

“Sample it.”

Harry looked up. 

“What?” he asked, but he had heard well enough. Both Roxy and Eggsy stilled in his peripheral vision.

Franklin had no problem with repeating himself, crossing his arms and inclining his head playfully towards Eggsy. “Sample it, Mr. De Vere.”

This could not be happening. 

“I wouldn’t want you to leave with something you aren’t entirely happy with. Go on.”

“ _Harry…what is going on_?” Merlin asked.

Harry barely heard him, mouth dry as sand and quite possibly having the second-almost heart attack of his life. Maybe it was a real one this time.

“…I can judge quite well from h—”

“Or would you refer the other one? With that bushy head of hair? Charlie, was it?”

Harry shook his head, pulse taking off, further more when Franklin eyed the way he held onto his umbrella.

“You’ve lost me, Franklin.” He offered weakly, because he felt so. The thought of touching Roxy under such duress was horrid enough, but touching Eggsy, and like this too? 

And suddenly, Harry realised he’d died at some point, and reached Hell.

“Fuck this boy, or my men will shoot you in the head.” Franklin said, articulating each word precisely and clearly.

“Excuse me?” Harry breathed, covered dropping by the second to present a very real man.

Franklin smiled without humour, and shrugged without care. “I don’t care who you are, how rich you are, or what you are, and I will keep not caring as long as you fuck this boy. No one will find you, or this place, when you go missing if you don’t.”

“I-I don’t understand, this is _preposterous_ —!”

“It’s simply precautionary, my friend. See, the other one is quite the nervous talker. This one here refuses to talk at all. So a few suspicions have arisen and as I am sure you understand I need to be particularly careful.” Franklin idled forward, giving Eggsy an amused look—Eggsy gave him nothing but daggers. “Give us a show, and show us you are one of us. And as a heartfelt apology for inconveniencing you I will give him to you at half price. This is of course a grievous intrusion, but one that would not exist if not for me. The reward is worth far more than a little exhibition.”

Proceedings by reputation; Roxy had been right.

“You’re all sick fucks!” Eggsy shouted, fighting against the straps, his muscles straining. 

Harry felt fainted, hot and cold, numb and pained all at once. He wasn’t sure how he was still standing, he wasn’t sure where Eggsy had the energy and courage from to spit and fight as he did, and he felt terribly useless as he stood between two people he was sworn to protect, stuck in the biggest conundrum of his life. He couldn’t violate Eggsy like that, he could barely justify all the little fantasies he had of simply kissing the boy.

“I don’t see the reason for hesitation, Mr. De Vere. Perhaps if you explain it to me, I’ll understand. Or should I ask your little girl here?”

The guard at the door aimed his gun to Roxy’s head, and she sucked in a high-pitched breath. Harry allowed himself to look as alarmed as he felt, surely it was expected of pampered Mr. De Vere, and was glad to see a spark of something in her eyes when she met his gaze. She was still there, and so was Eggsy. 

But he wasn’t. Mr. De Vere was there. He had to be, or Franklin would kill them, no questions asked. There was no choice.

“ _Harry, you need to stall! I’m not—his systems—_!”

Harry stared at Eggsy’s red face through the glasses, and then took them off. He pocketed them slowly, as casually as was humanly possible, and closed his eyes as Roxy caught on.

“NO! No, you can’t do this! You—!” 

Harry couldn’t let her finish. Authentic or false, Harry couldn’t hear that right now, or have her (or anyone) bare witness. Every bit of information was valuable to their records, but this was not going to be one of them.

He jammed his thumb into the control button of her collar and sent her crashing to her knees. Eggsy screamed along with her, shaking and rattling the bedding as she shrieked. He could sense both of their confusion when he didn’t release the button after a few seconds, and listened to Eggsy pant out terrified breaths as Roxy gave one last jolt and crumpled to the ground. Harry spared her one look to make sure she was breathing, then pocketed the device and sighed heavily, sucking in a deep breath of his own afterwards as he tried to control his image. 

Franklin snorted and regarded her like a lost pet. “Not very well trained, is she?”

Harry inclined his chin towards Eggsy. “Tell me about it first.”

“About what?”

“About this _art_. Would he…do they have sensation? How real is it?”

“It’s grown and made from their own genes. There is little to no chance of his body rejecting it.” Franklin put a hand to his shoulder and walked them closer, pointedly forcing Harry to look where every man would be undoubtedly staring. “And it functions quite perfectly.” 

And after a few moments Harry realized he wasn’t immune. Eggsy was bare and bared, and in possession of something pink and unnatural for his gender (which was still attached, thank the Lord).

Franklin reached out between Eggsy’s legs with intent, and Harry snatched his arm. Eggsy gasped and squirmed back, nowhere to go as he stared wide eyes at their hands hovering inches away from his genitals. 

“Seeing as you’re giving me little choice but to buy this one, I’d prefer it if no one else touches it.” Harry said, relaxing his grip. He may have been a little too fast in reflex, but Franklin humoured him and gestured him forward instead, hardly a better prospect despite the burning in his blood.

“Deepest apologies. But please, _try it_. You’ll find his responses are quite enchanting. Everything is quite sensitive and…virginal.”

Eggsy shook violently again, blinking out angry tears. 

“God, I am gonna gut you!”

Harry suppressed the instinct to comfort Eggsy, and repeated after Franklin softly as the word echoed in his mind. “...Virginal?”

“Yes. How could I leave that very important piece out? Literally!”

Harry inhaled, and looked back between Eggsy’s solid legs to where the evidence of his capture lay hidden just under his balls. He was flaccid and quite hairless. Harry didn’t know if Eggsy usually shaved, or if that had been Franklin’s doing. Probably Franklin, for the sake of surgery.

There was just no avoiding it. Eggsy had a pussy between his legs. It was small and pink and looked smoother than anything, sporting a little slit that parted just so each time Eggsy wriggled. 

A fierce flush of helpless arousal took hold of Harry, and he stilled in horror at the recognition. He knew he should be reacting quite differently, like a ‘normal pervert’ would, but for the life of him he couldn’t think further than two thoughts ahead.

“…This was quite the surgery.” He breathed, compromising his failing cover by reached out and resting a hand on one of Eggsy’s raised knees. The boy shivered beneath him, staring up at him with his lips pressed into a hard line.

“...Can you feel the difference?” he asked Eggsy.

Eggsy glared all the harder.

Franklin stepped back with all the smugness of a man counting cards at a game of poker. “Take your time.”

Still nothing from Merlin. Harry would know when he broke through, Merlin would probably unlock all the electronic doors, distracting Franklin and his men just enough for Harry to attempt a siege on his own. 

But for now he was stuck. Stuck staring at the cruel violation of Eggsy’s person, expected to do the unthinkable, with all their lives hanging in the balance. Franklin was boasting time, but Mr. De Vere shouldn’t want or need _time_ to defile Eggsy. If anything, a deep, dark part of Harry saw and attached itself to the appeal of what he was seeing. And it sickened him.

“…I want a sixty percent discount.”

“We’ll argue finance afterwards. Please, whenever you’re ready.”

The offer for time was a farce, and Roxy would be the first to go judging by the direction of Franklin’s pointed hovering. 

“Very well.” He said, taking a large step towards Eggsy and putting his other hand on Eggsy’s other knee.

It took all his courage and strength to look Eggsy in the eye, the one who trusted him so inexplicable, and blinked the word _box_ at Eggsy.

Eggsy stilled as he received it, and then his face twisted all the more. 

“Well, go on, have at it.” He barked, jaw trembling despite his coarse tone. “Just wait till I get loose and you’ll see.” 

God, Harry wanted to scoop him up and hold him until they melded, and beg his forgiveness for allowing any of this to happen in the first place.

“You’ll be loose in a moment, don’t you worry.” Franklin said, “Because even if he doesn’t, I think I’ll have you myself.”

Harry didn’t know which one of them despised the idea more, but it also put things in perspective. If he didn’t do this, Franklin or his people would.

“No one else has touched him?”

“No one.”

Harry nodded, as though partially in belief (though major relief), and took a long look. 

At first he tried not to _see_ , hoping to stare at a spot of skin and block it all out, but the situation was all too pronounced to ignore. How many times had he resisted the urge to grab Eggsy by the hand and pull him close, wrap his arms around his compact little body and squeeze him close? How many times had he had to look away from his handsome face to control the urge to take him by the neck and kiss him silly? How many times had he stared from afar as Eggsy trained, tracksuit damp with sweat and clinging to his youthful body? How many times had he tried and failed not to imagine wrapping those firm legs around his waist and fuck him into next week?

He’d tried so hard not to humour those desires even after becoming at least half convinced that his attraction wasn’t entirely one-sided. But Eggsy was young, he still had a lot to learn; surely his crush would wane when better prospects arose… Or that is what Harry told himself every time Eggsy flirted with him.

He wasn’t flirting right now though. Eggsy looked about to kill something.

“Does it hurt, boy?” he asked, surprising himself with the clarity of his voice. Eggsy surprised him back by sneering. He was holding his cover far better than most agents would. Harry couldn’t even imagine what state Charlie must be in.

“No. Not like you’re gonna.”

Eggsy’s face red and utterly burning, but he was still brave enough to hold his ground. He was brazenly exposed and unable to even try to hide himself. At the very least his heated flesh was due to embarrassment and not physical pain. 

Franklin’s presence was not forgotten. Harry glanced at him, trying on a Mr. De Vere face of muted awe, and slowly lowered a hand from Eggsy’s knee. He didn’t brush it down his thigh like he wanted to, he didn’t have that kind of permission. He didn’t have any. 

He hesitated, but he had no choice. He put his palm over Eggsy’s additional sex, cupping it as gently and clinically as he could like any other wound he’d helped Eggsy with. 

It worked for a brief moment, until Eggsy let out a surprised gasp and wriggled helplessly beneath him.

“…Quite real.” Harry breathed. It was warm and soft and repulsively, mouth-wateringly, damp.

Franklin hummed, his eyes dark. “Quite. And it’s all yours. If you want it.”

God, if this had been _any_ other situation…

Eggsy jerked, and Harry yanked his hand away. But the look on Eggsy’s face stopped him short—Eggsy was blushing furiously with something other than plain old shame, searching Harry’s eyes vigorously. Eggsy rarely blushed, he was such a confident shit. Eggsy only ever blushed for him, everyone knew it, and perhaps Harry hadn’t yet lost the gift of having it.

“Do what you want, ya sleezy geezer. I ain’t afraid.” But he did look afraid. He looked afraid and nervous and so bloody obviously _shy_ that it made Harry’s cock twitch despite it all.

But Eggsy was afraid, he had every right to be, and this was wrong. Harry stepped back, his assaulting hand feeling like it had been dipped in a pot of boiling water.

“…Perhaps he _is_ a bit mouthy for my taste.” He said with a nervous chuckle, ignoring the crinkle of Eggsy’s brows.

Franklin pursed his lips. “Oh. Well, I suggest Charlie next. And this one still won’t tell me his name.”

“No! Leave him alone! I said do it! So do it!” Eggsy shouted.

So it was either Charlie, or Eggsy. A spy did what they had to for their mission, but that usually entailed their own sacrifice. Stooping to a low of rape to keep cover was as frowned upon as risking a fellow agent’s life.

“Brave boy, isn’t he?” Franklin teased.

Harry was a twitch away from swiping his umbrella and starting the party himself when Eggsy jerked again, the livid lines on his face softened into something of determination. 

“What? Ain’t man enough, _Mr. Pickles_?”

Franklin laughed loudly. “I never taught him that!”

Harry, on the other hand, stilled pleasantly. He stared at Eggsy with as much focus as was humanly possible to decipher that astoundingly obvious coded message. Eggsy was stable, stable enough to keep up their cover, stable enough to convey it verbally through intimate code. If Franklin suspected they were undercover spies he wouldn’t know exactly _who_ they were, ‘Mr. Pickles’ would fly right over his head and smack Mr. De Vere in the face to reach Harry Hart. Surely no decent agent would defile one of his younger subordinates, especially not in light of the experiment. 

Not unless he had permission, which Eggsy had just knowingly and loudly given.

Harry waited a beat on the chance that Merlin got in, but then he set his jaw and resumed his place between Eggsy’s beautifully spread legs, watching the boy shrink minutely under his shadow, cheeks pink and hot.

“…All right. It seems he’s mine.”

The ferocity from before had simmered substantially, the angry, cocky boy devolving into a twitchy, flustered thing as he stared up valiantly. 

“Go on. Have at it. Kill me in the process or I’mma kill you soon’s you done.” God, Eggsy had better acting, Harry would shoot himself if he was reading this wrong.

“If you’re sure.” He said unsurely. By now his character was out of the window, he was surprised Franklin hadn’t killed him already.

And surprising him again, Eggsy scoffed, wearing the exact same expression he always did when facing off Charlie in a ridiculous spat.

“I ain’t scared’a you.”

The truth of it set Harry free.

**XxXxXxXx**

Eggsy was scared. He was shit-scared. He was surprised he hadn’t shat himself. But he was not scared _of_ Harry.

For a good while there Eggsy had been positive he’d never again see the light of day, and if he did, it’d be somewhere off in the far reaches of Russia in some Devil-worshipping sex-den of horrors. 

Franklin was talkative about what he did. Eggsy wouldn’t have believed his rambling if he hadn’t seen the footage himself, or the thing between his legs. The scientist was very proud of his work. But Franklin stopped talking after Charlie did, and that’s when Eggsy shut up altogether. They’d live longer if they weren’t a threat, but Charlie had spilt the beans of an outside interest in Franklin’s operation, quickly after waking up to their new bodies. He hadn’t given specifics before actually managing to shut himself up, the others boys had thought he’d simply gone crazy, but it had been enough to catch Franklin’s attention.

They were separated soon after the surgery, Eggsy didn’t know what or if Charlie had said anything further, but Charlie wasn’t the only one he had to worry about. He’d woken up sweating, strapped down and aching something _fierce_. The bright light above him made it impossible to drift away again, away from it all, because he knew exactly what had been done to him. He’d barely a couple hours to come to terms with it before being drugged up, all his skills and fighting for naught against gas inhalation, and then he’d woken to his hips feeling like they’d been stretched apart, his gut burning and something lodged deep inside it.

Franklin reappeared soon after he awoke and took everything away until breathing and twitching was all Eggsy could do. It slowed everything down, it took effort just to move his fingers, and holding together a train of thought was far more tiring than it’d ever been, piss-arse drunk nights included. Eggsy wanted to scream and fight and go completely mental, but he simply couldn’t. The knowledge of what had been done sat at the back of his mind, settling and settling until the moment he woke up with feeling in his limbs, and he had passed the threshold to freak out.

And maybe it would’ve come back, had Franklin not tried to pry information out of him, reminding him who he was—a fledgling spy. Charlie was apparently too frantic to make any sense, Eggsy believed it, and perhaps he should be too for the sake of their cover. But he just couldn’t. He got angry instead, spitting and frothing over his violated humanity. He stopped that quickly too after Franklin made his examinations unnecessarily long and probing. Eggsy couldn’t stop the tears then, humiliated and drowning in shock as Franklin touched new and sensitive parts of him.

He was scared of what Franklin had done. He was scared of what would happen to his body. He was scared of what would happen to them. And he was scared for Harry.

Of course Harry would come for them. The last person Eggsy wanted to see here was Roxy, but their appearance hardened his resolve to stay strong. They weren’t entirely lost, they wouldn’t be shipping off to some small, untraceable zip code in a country where the laws came second to money where they’d live as drugged up sex-slaves to some sadistic pervert. They would be rescued and taken home. 

Eggsy wanted to badly to blame Charlie (technically he _had_ set them on the path), but it was just as much his fault as it was Charlie’s. He should’ve insisted they stay back, he should’ve tackled Charlie or hid his shoes or stuck gum in his hair. Anything to have kept them at their station until their actual orders came around. But he hadn’t, he’d let Charlie rev him up, and they’d ended up here. Eggsy couldn’t even feel the gnawing anticipation of being scolded by a concerned father figure, they’d be treated like burn victims instead. Roxy had already cried her eyes out, and for the first time Eggsy couldn’t tell if she was fibbing or not.

Harry on the other hand, Eggsy had never seen him so terribly held together. It had filled Eggsy with every possible relief seeing Harry, but it was quickly overshadowed by their next problem; getting the hell out. Did Harry have a plan? Was Roxy faking? Was the compound surrounded? And did Harry know what he was about to see before he saw it?

Apparently not. 

Mr. De Vere’s conflicting responses were not a good sign. Harry was always the level-headed one, even when charging through a pub fight, he never lost his cool—not visibly. But right now, he was visibly loosing it and blowing his cover like a rookie. The fact that Eggsy couldn’t tell exactly _why_ was killing him.

It was no secret he liked Harry, he was pretty sure even his mum knew, and as far as Roxy was concerned, Harry liked him back. But that was it. Eggsy had never had the courage to come out with it no matter how many stupid flirts and grins and innuendoes he threw Harry’s way. Maybe Harry was out of his league, maybe Harry was uncomfortable with his age, maybe Harry wasn’t as amused by his antics as Eggsy thought he was. There were all kinds of _maybe_ s Eggsy could think of, but the fact of the matter was that he was stupidly hot for Harry, and he was sure Harry was stupidly hot for him.

And now he was tied down and spread eagle with Harry staring at his deformed body. 

Eggsy had grown to feel a sting of jealousy learning about Harry’s honeypot missions, all million of them—all successful too. While he himself was bisexual and proud, he didn’t like the thought of Harry being the same. He was greedy and possessive when it came to thinking of Harry finally approaching him. And now, suddenly, the thought of Harry being bisexual was of miniscule comfort.

Perhaps smaller than miniscule, with the way Harry was staring at the madness between his legs. He’d almost had a panic attacked when Franklin first showed him.

The only thing Eggsy could do to hold onto his courage was grit his teeth and keep the anger going, but it quickly became obvious Harry was, for the first time that Eggsy could tell, unsure. Between Roxy’s panicking, Eggsy’s spitting and the gun pointed at their heads if they didn’t have _sex_ , Eggsy didn’t blame Harry one bit. What was he supposed to do? Harry had his questionable moments but this was sexual assault. Charlie would’ve been screaming bloody murder by now.

Eggsy couldn’t even begin to count the number of times he’d wanted Harry to just grab him and fuck him. 

But not like this. 

He’d had time to come to terms with this organ’s existence in the base sense, but Harry was just meeting it and this was _not_ the way Eggsy had ever wanted something like this to happen. Harry must be disgusted and repulsed beneath all that steaming rage and uncertainty. Eggsy wasn’t shallow enough to think that was solely the focus on Harry’s mind, he was most likely trying to figure their way out whilst planning Franklin’s murder. He knew Harry cared about him more than most things—some times anything. But how would he ever care _further_ , more intimately, now that Eggsy had this abomination crafted into his body? 

They pulled the last straw when Franklin dragged Charlie’s name back into the picture. They couldn’t keep stalling, Franklin would make good on his threats, and Eggsy knew neither Harry nor Charlie would survive that. Someone had to stay sane, and he did so by parading false bravado for Mr. De Vere even as his face burnt and he wished the bed would just swallow him up.

The ‘Mr. Pickles’ thing slipped out without much thought. It was the first thing that came to mind as he floundered for a secret way to reassure Harry around all his false threats. He hated seeing him so tense and uncomfortable. He wanted to shake Harry and say “ _it’s okay, Harry, we’ll get through this. It’s just another mission. We can win._ ” bury himself in Harry’s chest and then get back to kicking arse. But Harry was rightfully disturbed about what he was seeing. The least Eggsy could do was give him permission to continue.

Eggsy had barely thought about the actual physical aspect of what was being demanded of them until Harry reached out and politely touched him. The pain had long receded and the only thing Eggsy felt horribly sensitive, like a layer of skin had been grafted away, leaving the very top of his nerves exposed and vulnerable. Perhaps that was the whole thing, he felt exposed and vulnerable, violated in an unthinkable way that was too insane to process. Maybe the freak-out was still coming.

“ _All right. It seems he’s mine_.” Harry said, a gorgeous parody of what Eggsy had fantasised about hearing for most of the time he’d known Harry.

“I ain’t scared of you.” And it was the absolute truth. He trusted Harry with his very life. Even if, by some misfortunate, they didn’t make it out of here, Eggsy would rest well knowing Harry had done his best to save him. Harry was his hero and he’d do anything for Harry, just as Harry straightened and prepared to do so in return.

“Would it be too hopeful to ask for lubrication?” Harry asked Franklin, cupping his broad hands beneath Eggsy’s thighs. The touch was light and gentle but god did it feel like a sensual caress. Franklin had to have done this on purpose.

“You won’t need it. Trust me.”

Eggsy flushed hot and turned his face from Franklin’s direction, but it was impossible to escape Harry, especially with the way he was staring at him. Against Eggsy’s better judgement he looked up at Harry, preparing his heart for some kind of negativity, and he was surprised to find lust. 

It had to have been false, that was his first thought, and that was probably for the best, but every second of eye contact completely tore down any sheets between them. The last time they’d seen each other Harry had looked at him this way, they’d left words unspoken in favour of weak ‘good luck’s and pats to the arm while it was more than obvious they were an inch away from snogging right there in the weapon’s room. 

Eggsy told himself it was nothing, because it could be nothing, and he didn’t mind it, but he was becoming very, very sure he gloriously mistaken. 

Harry shoved a hand back between his legs and pressed two fingers into his body. Eggsy jerked and shouted, a sharp zap of what had to be raw electricity shooting from _that area_ through his crotch into his stomach. As the wave passed he realised it wasn’t so much _in_ his body as it was _between_ , the pads of Harry’s running between the soft folds.

Mortification burst and spread over Eggsy’s face like he was standing beneath a water pipe and he tried useless to close his legs.

“I might not have believed this if I didn’t see it…” Harry murmured. It sounded as if he was speaking just to Eggsy, tone reversed and the slightest bit regretful as he ever so gently petted the tips of his fingers into the feminine sex nestled just below Eggsy’s balls. Eggsy might never be able to express the level of relief he had felt when learning all of his junk was still there.

Of all the images Eggsy had conjured up of Harry fondling him in dark, inappropriate places, this was understandable not one of them. But it was close. Harry could see _everything_ , Eggsy’s legs were lewdly spread, and if only Harry— _holy fucking fishbiscuist_.

“He doesn’t need that.” Franklin said, sounding irritable as Harry wrapped his other hand around Eggsy’s twitching cock, giving it a tight squeeze. Fantasy lived, fantasy being lived!

“My boy, my rules.” Harry shot, keep his eyes between Eggsy’s legs. 

Eggsy whimpered and shuddered at the combination of Harry’s words and caresses, gasping for breath as Harry gave him an experimental tug that was unlike any before. Eggsy couldn’t tell if it was because of the surgery or simply because it was Harry, and struggled to contain the feeling that his heart was going to beat right out of his chest.

“Not until he’s bred.” Franklin returned in much the same tone as Harry, beginning to look impatient now as he shifted foot to foot, whether it was to learn they were indeed spies, or just to see the show.

“Virgins are meant to be savoured and pampered. I’m not going to rush this for you.”

“You have twenty minutes, Mr. De Vere.”

Eggsy watched the tightening of Harry’s jaw like he always watched Harry, with reverence and admiration. And of course, badly hidden lust. He told himself to school his expression better, but before he could attempt a scowl Harry stroked him again and he groaned. It was like fireworks beneath his skin, and he couldn’t ignore it. Franklin brightened in delight, overzealous with pride for his monstrous works.

“He’ll be like this for a couple weeks, everything is _very_ sensitive. It will wear off but by then he’ll have grown used to responding to your touch.”

To Eggsy’s horror, he shivered at the idea. 

“Shortcut to training.” Harry said, and with a visible sigh, did something with his fingers that made Eggsy arch and scream.

“Music each time…” Franklin said, closing his eyes and inhaling as Eggsy shook.

Eggsy remembered that touch from the first few times he’d woken after going under, straining his fists in a futile effort to block out the mind numbing pleasure of the clit he now possessed. He didn’t know how but it worked, Franklin had made triple sure it worked.

“Does that feel good?” Harry asked to Eggsy suddenly, as if asking him offhandedly to pass the sugar.

Eggsy forced down the last traitorous tremor, and opened his mouth to spit a rude retort, but he stopped short—

It was Harry Hart looking down at him, not Mr. De Vere. …But that didn’t help him answer the question in the first place, not in the slightest.

“Does it hurt or not?” Harry amended.

Eggsy shook his head as best he could. Harry nodded and broke their gaze, sliding his fingers down. Eggsy jerked and made a worried noise before Harry got to the other place of interest. Harry released his cock and held him down by the waist so he could probe at the very centre of Eggsy’s body uninhibited. 

Eggsy hadn’t liked it when Franklin did it, and he didn’t seem to like this any better. His heart was heavy and lodged in his throat, leaps of fear springing up despite the voice of reason trying to talk them down. The prevalent thought causing his discomfort was the image of being violently raped in his new vulnerable place, so soft and tender and terrifying. What if he tore and bled to death? What if it had formed wrong and they only found out after wrecking him? What if it his guts spilled out through it? What if the pain was too great and he begged for mercy, glad to spill Kingsman secrets? Eggsy was terrified of all of it and more, and he couldn’t form it into words.

A gurgle escaped him as Harry pressed against the opening, tilting his head a little to see.

“Does this hurt?”

There was pressure that could maybe become pain, so Eggsy nodded in a moment of weakness.

Harry stopped immediately, and moved to hold his other hip so he was standing snug between Eggsy’s thighs, hiding his exposed body from the room.

“Can you be strong?” 

The question was so unexpected that even Franklin seemed to still.

Eggsy blinked owlishly, and stared up at the face of his mentor. _Harry_. It was just Harry.

“Y—…yes.” Eggsy whispered after a loud silence, starting to pant again as he and Harry stared directly at one another, nothing between them but the task ahead. Their task, no one else’s.

“Fifteen minutes.”

Harry scowled, but otherwise ignored Franklin and drew his hands back, brushing them up and down Eggsy’s inner thighs a few times. 

The contact was pronounced and divine and painful all at once. Eggsy struggled and complained in gibberish under his breath as the tingling assaulted him, wishing both that Harry would just fuck him and get it over it with, or blow their cover and get them killed. Both sounded equally appealing, depending on where Harry’s hands and gaze was.

Then Harry leaned over with worrying intensity, grabbed the back of his neck and squeezed.

“I need you to be good. This will only hurt if you’re tense. And it doesn’t have to hurt. You’re going nowhere, so just be good.”

A pathetic whine escaped Eggsy’s pink lips, just as two tears brimmed and fell. He couldn’t wipe them away let alone comfort Harry in light of their appearance. It wasn’t out of fear, not entirely. It was just the way Harry was struggling to soften the situation and ease him through. Each squeeze to his hip and his neck was personal, physical communication and whispers Harry couldn’t make out loud, willing Eggsy to read it in his eyes instead. And Eggsy did, and he couldn’t stop from getting emotional.

“P-please…” Eggsy breathed, ambiguously. It worked for their cover if he cried and acted like a scared child even with his previously hard stance. He’d held his ground and now it was breaking, falling would be inevitable.

“Will you let me show you how good it can be?” Harry asked, squeezing Eggsy’s thighs with this big fucking paws.

“Just fucking do it…” Eggsy said, a weak parody of his earlier spitting. He made sure Franklin could hear and see the shame and defeat on his face, but each time he and Harry made eye contact he _knew_ Harry now knew he was on board. And if there was anything completely comforting, it was knowing Harry knew exactly what he was doing.

“You’ll be begging for more, darling, don’t you worry.”

Harry left him with that and returned his attention between his legs seeing as the clock was quickly counting down. Eggsy didn’t even bother looking at Franklin, and stared at the ceiling as the warm touch of Harry faded around the back of his neck, leaving with him a weak but tangible feeling of comfort.

Abruptly his cock was engulfed in warmth, followed by what felt like a punch to his pleasure centre—which used to be his prostate. Now, now it was the little nub that Harry was rubbing with his thumb. The first few seconds were blinding. His feet shook in their straps and he turned his head back, it was all he could do to keep from moaning for all these evil men to witness. It was only supposed to be for Harry, Harry who licked his thumb before putting it back and making Eggsy’s entire body flush sickeningly hot.

The move hadn’t been out of a perverted nature (or not entirely), it made the heavy petting smoother. Harry was in a rush now, and Eggsy wondered if it was because of Franklin or something else.

Once he’d found a good rhythm Harry started pumping his cock, and that was it for Eggsy’s control and pride. His eyes clenched shut and his toes curled, and a soft moan of shame and ecstasy left his mouth. His hips thrust up into Harry’s hand and he felt himself stiffen right before their eyes. Harry gripped and pumped tighter the harder he got, face stoic now that he’d decided upon following through. 

Barely half a minute in and it started it hurt, the onset of an orgasm approaching. He panted and squirmed and whined helplessly, unable to stop himself watching Harry work his body like one of his favourite guns. Harry knew exactly where to press and when to pull, circling his wrists and putting the filthiest of Eggsy’s fantasies to shame. 

Eggsy couldn’t see down between his legs but he could see his cock, and it made him close his eyes and turn away. He was utterly _dripping_ , giving Harry all the lubrication he needed as the jerking became slick and audible. The slide was heavenly and precise and maddening, drawing little whimpers that Eggsy let escape him lest they build up and explode, much like the coil tightening in his gut. But it waned each time he was reminded that they were not alone, and that there was something foreign between his legs.

He couldn’t tell if Harry was trying to make him cum, but he groaned gratefully when the assault stopped. He almost felt like he had been milked, his cock stiff and red and sticking up shamelessly as Harry deserted it in favour of returning his fingers back down between the soft lips. Eggsy didn’t know what to make of the unbridled desire on Harry’s face, nor the words that seems to slip out unintentionally.

“God, you’re wet.”

Eggsy sobbed, shaking with need. There was nothing else now, it was just plain hungry _need_. The words were soft and secretive on Harry’s tongue, probably meant for Franklin but lost between them instead in a wave of awe. Eggsy felt its truth as Harry slid his fingers around a little too easily, dangerously close to brushing the hole. He thought he could feel Harry’s fingers shaking, constrained and struggling.

Suddenly Franklin was there, leaning over his fat head and taking his visual fill with small dark eyes. “Ah, magnifico.”

“Biological response to stimulation.” Harry said, voice just horse enough to be noticeable. He seemed to think so too because he cleared his throat, then straightened and gave Franklin a pointed look at the lack of personal space.

His suspicions must have been quelled. Franklin grinned like a guilty school boy and stepped back, gesturing with his hands that Eggsy was _all yours_. 

“Thank you.” Harry said, successfully petulant and in control of his cover.

Eggsy didn’t particularly need this anymore. He didn’t think there would be a script for how one would react in his place. Screaming or crying or both seemed logical enough. But it also meant that everything Eggsy did was _real_ , pure and unadulterated and real. Harry had seen him hurt, sad, alone, but never so intimately vulnerable. This was something neither of them could pretend wasn’t real.

“All right, play time is over.” Harry said suddenly, and Eggsy swallowed loudly. He still had time to notice Franklin tensing with what could only be excitement while watching Harry pretend to casually unbuckle and aim his fucking dick like it was no biggie.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—” Eggsy prattled, closing his eyes and turning his head up so that maybe when he opened them, this would all be over. He tried not to tense, he tried to obey the soothing squeeze of Harry’s hand on his hip, and he tried to stay calm in light of it all—it was the least he could do to show Harry he was worth all this mess. _His_ mess.

The penetration wasn’t what Eggsy had expected. He hadn’t known what to expect, but it wasn’t quite this. There was pressure at this new core, blunt and warm and similar to pressing against a bullet wound that was numbed with adrenaline. The threat of pain was there as the pressure built, Eggsy’s blood rushing like a torrent, building and building at such a slow pace that Eggsy thought time had stopped.

He opened his eyes to find reality, and found Harry pressed tight against him, close enough to squeeze Eggsy’s testes between them. 

Eggsy made a small sound in shock, looking wildly for some part of Harry’s cock, but all that was between them was sticky skin and Harry’s rumpled suit. For a silly moment he thought maybe Harry was faking it for Franklin, slipping it somewhere hidden, but that was crazy even in this situation, a situation that came thunderously evident as Eggsy shivered, and felt his cunt tighten around something that wasn’t there before.

“See? Works perfectly.” Franklin said, thankfully from a distance.

Eggsy assumed it was to point out that he hadn’t split apart, _after taking Harry to the hilt oh my fuck_.

“Yes,” Harry grunted, wiping a fleck of sweat off his lip before placing that palm down next to Eggsy’s head. They locked gazes, and Eggsy was glad to see Harry looked as surprised as he was.

They looked at one another long and hard, breathing almost into each other’s faces as Harry leaned over him, blocking any sight of Franklin and the guards, blocking anything that wasn’/t the intensity of Harry’s gorgeous aged eyes.

“Good.” Harry whispered, never breaking eye contact, still as a statue.

Eggsy’s heart fluttered to the beat of dozen humming birds. If this ordeal didn’t kill him, Harry would, eventually. He’d always known it, but there was no denying it now. He had it bad, and so did Harry, he dared to believe. It was all agonisingly real now, as Harry slid his hard hand from his hip up and flat against Eggsy’s belly, fingers spread possessively.

“Please.” Eggsy returned without a thought, scared to death but at the same time ready as hell. Nothing in the life of a spy was normal, why should their first time be any different? He could do this… He _wanted_ to do this.

“God,” Eggsy groaned, closing his eyes again and turning his face away. He was a real fucking deviant. The only solace was that Harry had always been one himself, but maybe he was bad enough that Eggsy had company. And it certainly seemed like it as Harry pressed on his stomach, drew him hips back, and started to fuck him with little complaint.

Sharp, shallow thrusts that would suit a man Harry’s age—it was not what Eggsy had expected. He had always imagined deep, teeth rattling plunges that contradicted Harry’s age. The man was a secret weapon, a force of nature, but Mr. De Vere wasn’t, and Eggsy tried to remember where he was. He tried not to urge Harry on as the pleasure blossomed with alien tendrils from places he hadn’t even explored himself. There was a dull hint of pain but it was surrounded by the crackling of sensual heaven, a fuzzy concoction that only got stronger the more Harry carved his path through him. 

_This was what girls felt_ , Eggsy thought, a crazed chuckled escaping but getting lost between their increasingly loud grunting. It was weird, it didn’t hurt, not like he expected, nor did it feel like what he thought being ploughed in the ass would be like. He was stuffed full with cock in a pussy that was so wet he was sure it wasn’t normal. But he’d never done either of those things so he was thoroughly at the mercy of this experience, and whatever the fuck Franklin had pumped in him because he was sure women only had one clit, but there was something inside him that Harry was touching that was utterly blowing his mind.

Shame and dignity be damned, there was no quietening the sounds he made as Harry assaulted some beautiful spot inside him with nothing fancy but the usual movements. Eggsy knew he was making obscene sounds and he was highly aware of how he was clenching around Harry’s length, but he’d never felt anything like this. Soft, wet pleasure slipping through him as though it were reaching his very soul. Every time Harry’s body connected with his was a rush of satisfaction, Eggsy’s legs twitching to clamp around Harry’s waist and keep him there. Thankfully Harry never went far, rutting in small, deceptive thrusts that Eggsy eventually realised were concentrated and careful with his wellbeing in mind. It was quite obvious Harry was trying his best not to hurt him. And it was quite obvious they were both a thread away from losing that control.

But as expected, as trained, Harry never did. He kept his pained composure, a neutral expression on his face and a constant, average wave of thrusts befitting the man he was playing. It was filthy in its own way, like a person trying out a new bed before buying it, technical and trying not to excite the salesman, while secretly loving it. Eggsy wished he could be as composed, but he was sure he’d learn it one day. If they got out of here.

For a moment the reality of their lives on the balance returned to Eggsy and he stilled, taking in his surroundings while trying to put the sensations between his legs on the backpedal. 

The room was horrifically quiet, and Franklin was still there watching them with a leer Eggsy hoped to scrape off. He saw only glimpses of him from under Harry’s arm, and then he glanced at the guards to take note proper of their weaponry and positions. It wasn’t too bad a setting, they could make it out; the only thing stopping them was the actual bloody doors. He hoped there was an extraction plan, he hoped they’d be alright, and he hoped there was alcohol back at home because he needed to get _so_ drunk after this.

“Five minutes.” Franklin said, making Harry stutter, and if Eggsy guessed he’d probably be on the money guessing that Harry had almost gotten lost there. He supposed he couldn’t blame him, he’d want to fuck him too as wet and writhing as he was, he must be a sight. 

The thought of Harry never being able to rid himself of this image made him tighten again pleasantly, and dropping all concern he lifted his hips and ground down as much as he could, groaning as the tip of Harry dug into that sweet spot and caused the bubbling of his orgasm.

“Fuck,” Harry gasped, genuine in the moment as he ground back towards Eggsy, his movements stuttering again and for the very same thing Eggsy was feeling.

For a moment Eggsy didn’t want it to end. He wanted Harry to keep fucking him, giving these men a show or not, both his and Harry’s nebulous consent or not. He knew they both wanted it, he was sure of it, and he wanted more than anything to be in Harry’s bed right now. But they weren’t, and Eggsy gasped as Harry started stroking his forgotten dick, wiping his mind clear as his trembling, damp body became undone. Eggsy came hard, every atom exploding as Harry drove them to the edge.

“H-Harry…” he gasped, panting for breath as his eyesight spun, feeling like one big lump of throbbing, raw flesh. Everything was swirling and the urge to vomit was sudden and fierce, as was his thirst.

“I’m sorry...I’m sorry...” Harry whispered as he rocked out the last of his own orgasm, petting the front of Eggsy’s hair down and looking quite close to closing the small distance and giving Eggsy a kiss.

“Harry—”

“Shhh...” Harry pressed his head down onto Eggsy’s chest, nearly covering him entirely, still stroking Eggsy’s cock weakly between them. Harry was quite the weight, although Eggsy had a feeling that a lot of it was due to the future consequences of their actions.

“God,” Harry groaned into his chest, breath hot and short. Eggsy tried to catch his breath too, staring at the ceiling as his body tingled beneath Harry’s.

 

“Beautiful.” Franklin said, making them both lift their heads.

Harry finally snapped out of it, straightening up, but kept Eggsy hidden where they were joined so vulnerably. 

He didn’t look at Eggsy now that the high of their intercourse had dropped, but it was almost as difficult to look back at Franklin, feeling as weak as the day he lost his candidate.

“You’re quite a passionate man, Mr De Vere. You’d make a fine knight of the round table.” 

The two spies stiffened, and Franklin grinned like a shark.

Eggsy saw Harry reaching for his watch, the only line of defence he could spot on Harry, the only thing Harry could do without leaping into action with his pants undone. It was little defence against guns, but it was all they had, and Eggsy finally sobbed. They couldn’t die like this, not now.

And then like a shot, as though it were a god rushing to the prayer of a child, the ceiling above them cracked apart with a loud bang. Rubble sprayed in all directions. Harry pressed over Eggsy without a thought, arms out to shield Eggsy’s as brick and cement fell. 

The ground shook monstrously and Franklin could be heard shouting as another bang went off, this time setting off the alarms. The lights in the room were shattered, leaving them to squint in the weak flicker from the door which seemed to have fallen inwards. Eggsy’s pulse set off again and he squirmed against his restraints, their mission slamming back into place in the forefront of his mind. But it wasn’t so for Harry, who grabbed his face and looked into it. 

“Eggsy? Eggsy, speak to me, please—”

“H-Harry, I’m fine. I swear, it’s okay—!”

“Eggsy, I’m so sorry. I’m _so_ sorry—”

There was a final thunderous explosion, and everything went black.

 

When Eggsy awoke he was in a medical bay. The first thing he tried was to move his hands; they were untied. He could move them too with little pain, so no broken bones.

The second thing he tried was to find Harry; they needed to talk. But Harry wasn’t there, just a note on his table side that said _I am sorry_.

 

**XxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXxXx**

**Author's Note:**

> This was supposed to be the starting of a full length fic, but now it’s left as an excuse for bad porn. I had all these ideas where Eggsy now is stuck with a vag and has to learn to live with it, all the ins and outs and Roxy helps him with tampons and PMS, and he and Harry dance even more around their tension and guilt until they break and probably smex, and also BAM Eggsy turns out to be pregnant seeing as he gots a wooomb now and it’s sad and funny and sexy and scary but I don’t have the time or energy to write this. Still gotta continue Matters of the Hart. So if anyone wants to write a sequel for this or use the idea, hazzuh. I mean how hilariously awkward and fun would that be. or is it just me..
> 
> Also Eggsy and Roxy helping Charlie with his own vagina because would be fucking hilarious.
> 
> …prolly just me


End file.
